Quantico, Virginia, Wednesday…
Asako O'Brien had a Japanese mother and an Irish father and was born in Johannesburg, South Africa. Such were the ways of the modern world.
She was only slightly taller than Jay, yet looked more delicate. Her black hair was usually cut shorter than normal. She dressed simply but always looked regal all the same.
Jay often thought of Puccini when she was with her, which was absurd. First of all, neither of them really liked opera much. Also, Puccini wrote other operas besides Madame Butterfly. Jay even liked La Boheme a little but her favorite opera, if any could be called a favorite, was Carmen. Too bad it was in French instead of Spanish. What was Bizet thinking, writing an opera in French about bullfighting? Of course, Hemingway had written a novel in English about bullfighting. Now why didn't the Spanish, or even the Portuguese, write a novel about bullfighting? Instead, the most famous Spanish novel was about that nut who went tilting after windmills. That should have taken place in Holland. This world has always been strange. "I shouldn't even be talking to you," Asako told Jay. She sipped her tea between mouthfuls of a hearty ham sandwich.
"You can't have a social life?"
"I'm an FBI agent. Even worse, I'm a forensics expert. We have no life, social or otherwise." She took a bite of her dill and made a face at its tartness.
